


Autumn

by leangreenbean



Category: Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Annoying Paparazzi TM, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Identity Issues, M/M, Panic Attacks, Secret Identity, Tim Drake Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leangreenbean/pseuds/leangreenbean
Summary: The Hartford family is known for three things in Gotham: successfully defending the Iceberg Lounge in the 2.4 million dollar lawsuit in 2016, their heirloom apple orchards surrounding their mansion, and their annual Autumnal Harvest Fete. Etiquette and Bruce Wayne's reputation mandate that at least one Wayne family member be present at every gala, and Tim got the short straw. Normally, the Fete is a walk in the park, but tonight Tim's not doing so hot.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Autumn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eemawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eemawrites/gifts).



> For the TimKon Secret Santa - eemawrites, I'm so sorry this is so late!

The Hartford family is known for three things in Gotham: successfully defending the Iceberg Lounge in the 2.4 million dollar lawsuit in 2016, their heirloom apple orchards surrounding their mansion, and their annual Autumnal Harvest Fete (which was considered one of the most prestigious high-society events of the season).

Normally, Tim would have looked forward to the Fete. It was one of the few galas with hors d'oeuvres that he actually liked, and he knew the Hartford Estate well. When he was little, his parents had brought him to the estate for their weekly brunch meetings with the Hartford family, and Tim would always sneak off with the Hartfords’ youngest, Eden, to play tag in the orchards.

This year, though, he feels stifled in the crowd. There’s always been the pinched cheeks from elderly heiresses, the silver platters of hors d'oeuvres, the flashing of paparazzi cameras at every window. This is all old hat to him, so why is he so rattled?

Tim distantly registers someone speaking to him - oh, right, he’s in a conversation. He feels himself grow dizzy, and decides to throw away the rules of etiquette in favor of getting somewhere private before he makes a fool of himself. Plastering on a company smile, he gives a quick apology to the up-and-coming entrepreneurs that he was roped into discussing WayneTech mergers with (being a 17 year old CEO sucks, sometimes), and ducks out of the circle of tuxedos and expensive cologne before they can reply. 

There’s a grand staircase across the room, leading to the second floor and presumably away from prying eyes, so Tim makes a beeline for it through the crowd. There are eyes on him, he’s sure, but right now all that he can focus on is  _ getting out. _

He blinks, and he’s at the staircase. Another blink, and he’s hurrying down an empty hallway. There’s French doors in front of him, and he silently thanks whatever god is listening for the invention of balconies. 

The cool autumn air is a slap to the face. Relief washes over him as he slumps against the stone railing, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“Hey, stranger.”

Wait. He knows that voice.

Tiim’s eyes snap open (when had they closed? he can’t remember) and he looks up at the figure floating in front of him. 

Kon. 

What. 

Error. 

This does not compute. 

It must show on his face, because Kon bursts out laughing and says,

“Dude, you’re literally bluescreening!” He rolls over backwards, entire body shaking from his hearty guffaws, and Tim’s pretty sure he just got grey hair from sheer exasperation at his boyfriend. Of all the people he had to fall in love with, it had to be this idiot. The two of them probably look so stupid right now, but honestly? Tim couldn’t care less.

Kon’s laugh is infectious, and soon, Tim finds himself on the floor of the balcony, sides burning from the longest giggle fit he’s had in weeks. Every time either one of them gets close to regaining their composure, they make eye contact, and the laughter breaks out all over again. 

After several minutes, things finally quiet down

“Ah, you should have seen your face.” Kon’s still smiling, and he wipes some tears of joy out of his eyes as he speaks. “Wish I’d had a camera, Bart would’ve gotten a real kick out of it.”

Now that the shock has worn off, realization sets in, and Tim groans good-naturedly.

“Bruce is going to have an aneurysm if he finds out you’re here, you know that, right?”

Kon shrugs nonchalantly, and floats over the top of the balcony to land next to Tim.

“What B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Tim gives him A Look.

“There are several unsolved case files that suggest otherwise.”

“Ah, pssh, you know what I mean.”

There’s no real bite to their banter, and for a moment, Tim’s reminded of their bickering from the Young Justice days. Things were so much simpler back then.

They settle into a companionable silence, and Tim intertwines his hand with Kon’s as the two of them look out over the Hartford Mansion orchards. The night air is crisp, but Tim doesn’t mind - if anything, he’s grateful for the clarity it brings. The suffocating feeling from earlier dissipated in their laughing fit, and the steady presence of Kon at his side helps ground him back to the present. These are the moments that Tim wishes he could live in forever, where it’s just the two of them, not a care in the world. He sighs wistfully, and Kon looks at him quizzically.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Tim silently curses Kon’s superhearing. 

“...Nothing.”

“You hesitated.”

Tim glares at Kon and slaps him on the arm, but there’s no bite to it.

“I was just thinking. You know how it is.”

Kon raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, I know that look. Something’s up.” He scoots a little closer, and Tim’s grateful for the warmth. The autumn breeze went from refreshing to chilling very quick. “What’s on your mind, Timbo?”

He’s got him now. Dammit.

“...Do you wish things were different? That I wasn’t Tim Drake-Wayne, teenage CEO, and you weren’t Conner Kent, world-famous Superboy?” A dam inside him breaks, and he turns to Kon to look him in the eyes as the words come pouring out. “I mean, what would it be like? To be normal teenagers? Just the two of us, grabbing milkshakes after school, or, or, having weekly Wendy nights, or even just going to school? God, what I wouldn’t give to deal with Algebra II instead of Arkham breakouts somedays.” Tim sucks in a shaky breath. “We wouldn’t have to hide who we are anymore.”

The autumn wind stings his eyes, and Tim hurriedly wipes away the dampness on the inside of his tux sleeve. Can’t have the tabloids seeing the stains. Kon’s been silent for the entirety of his outburst, and for a moment, he thinks he’s blown it.

Tim opens his mouth to apologize, to backtrack, but is cut off by a warm presence approaching from behind him. Two strong arms wrap around him in a gentle hug, and Tim feels himself relax into Kon’s touch. 

“Y’know, life would be pretty boring if we were normal.” Kon’s voice is quiet, softer than he’s ever heard it before. “We wouldn’t be us. You’re my Robin, and I’m your clone boy.” Tim snorts gently, and swats his boyfriend on the arm.

“You remember that? Of course you do.” It’s been months since the fight in the square, but the memory returns clear as ever. “You’re such a sap, you know that, right?” 

Tim can hear Kon’s smile when he replies.

“What can I say, I got that Kent family charm.”

The two of them stand there, content to remain in the embrace, and gaze out over the orchards. There’s no paparazzi or party-goers out here, and Tim decides to allow himself this fleeting moment of peace. 

The sun sets over the distant hills and bathes the world in golden light. Tim shifts in Kon’s arms, lulled into a bit of a daze, and manages to turn around to face his boyfriend. Kon’s absolutely ethereal in this lighting. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling faintly, just soaking in the last of the sun’s rays; Tim wishes he’d snuck his camera into the gala.

Out of all the people he had to fall in love with, he’s glad it was Kon.


End file.
